


coy club for people not like you

by Transistors



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, One-Sided Attraction, Surreal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transistors/pseuds/Transistors
Summary: Donna doesn't know what it is about that club that attracts Laura to it; doesn't know what it is that makes her go there every night, disappearing so early in the afternoon and worrying everyone, and Donna doesn't know why it is that no one seems to notice what is happening to Laura. She doesn't know why it is that Laura won't tell her anything, even when Donna is there for her.She decides to go to the club that she doesn't get, with a name she doesn't bother remembering, to try and get Laura to come home.





	coy club for people not like you

**Author's Note:**

> I've been listening to [this OST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oB8eCD6H2f4&) on repeat and I couldn't stop thinking of Donna and Laura at a club, with this specific scene acting out and with implied homosexual love from Donna towards Laura, and maybe even from Laura back to Donna? The "one-sided attraction" thing is there because Donna is the one who thinks she's alone in how she feels, and Laura's feelings are never explored because haha! Fuck! Poor Laura.
> 
> Whelp, I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing this.

Donna has never understood what it is about clubs that drives Laura to them; she doesn’t know what it is about the bar in Twin Peaks, specifically, that calls to Laura. She doesn’t even remember its name, doesn’t remember what time it opens or closes, and likes to pretend that she doesn’t know where it is. Laura knows better, she always does, with that toothy, million-dollar smile of hers, that tells Donna all she needs to know – and that is that _she_ knows.

But she is genuine about the other admissions; she doesn’t know what time the club opens and shuts, and nor has she ever bothered learning the name of someplace she will  _never_ go to. But Laura frequents that place and always comes back with this dazed look in her eyes and yellowed teeth, with smells on her that make Donna recoil and a magnetic force that repulses her. She really doesn’t know what it is that she sees in that – in that club, where she does God knows  _what_ in there, surrounded by men and women in the throes of passions that Donna never wants to feel.

Or so she thinks. She watches Laura leave her house every night, where James sits her on his motorcycle – leaves for twenty minutes then comes back without her and Donna knows,  _knows_ Laura is at that bar. James comes to her house sometimes, with shaky hands and sweat on his brow like he has murdered someone, and Donna can’t bring it in herself to ask what it is that has driven James to act this way. He doesn’t tell her, unlike every time other where he willingly spills all his deepest secrets to her, with the quiet admission that Laura has known them before he has even told her.

It isn’t a mystery. Laura likes to tear these things right out of everyone, sink her fingers in deep until there isn’t anything else left for her to prod at, and then recede as if she has never even invaded the dampest recesses of their mind. There isn’t a switch so much as there is a gradient, and the part of Laura that is genuinely kind and loving shrinks more and more with the days that pass. 

Donna’s heart aches. Laura grows wilder at night, when she visits; screams always slip from her before she rushes out, and Donna’s parents are nowhere to be seen asking what has happened. The smell of Laura’s smoke never stains her sofa, never lets her parents know, and wool clogs her throat; tears gather at her eyes and bile sits, heavy, underneath the wool, as if both wait for an opportunity to completely tear her apart.

She knows where Laura goes. Doesn’t even have to ask James, or look outside to see him, or step outside to listen to the roars of his motorcycle engine. She knows, and that is enough to make her hands shake and her mouth dry up to the point that Donna has drank three bottles of water and still she feels like her entire body’s insides has swallowed up the sun, shrivelling her up like a daisy in the desert.

It changes one day. James comes to her looking like he is one second away from either an emotional breakdown or a numb rejection of the world around him, and Donna places a hand on his bicep and rubs at his jacket. “Will you take me to the club too, James?” she asks kindly and James looks through her before he nods and she is leading him outside. The ride has never felt as short as it has now, where the wind barely blows through her hair and the song of his bike never registers in her ears.

A neon, shooting gun greets her, flashing intermittently –  _bang! Bang! Bang!_ \-- and Donna watches bright bullets sink into a body that is never there. “I’ll wait for you here, Donna. Take as long as you need.” he reassures her and she believes him. She doesn’t know why, as she turns around to look at his tear-stained face that is quickly hidden behind the helmet, and Donna is turning then to take minuscule, uncertain steps towards the bar.

Even from as far away as she is, the music makes her bones shake underneath all her muscle, all her fat, and Donna can feel the migraine forming at the top of her head already. She doesn’t want to get into the bar, with the moonlight being her only guide in and the voices mingling with the booming, screeching audio. Her thoughts fade away and whatever drivel that is playing takes over once she is inside, and Donna finds herself immediately pushing past bodies.

“Laura?” she yells out, though she can’t even hear herself – she doesn’t think anyone else can, either – and she continues to grope and shove at dancing, gyrating figures to try and get through the circular crowd. They are dancing around someone, crowding around them like they are the very reason of existence, and Donna gasps as the air seems to grow thinner the deeper into the circle she gets. Hands clasp at her throat but when she tries to claw them off her nails meet with nothing and Donna is stumbling over someone’s feet.

They bump and push her around with their bodies, dancing still to the mind numbing tune that pounds and batters all around her skull, giving her no mercy as her brain throbs to the music. Her heart is slamming against her chest, lungs failing to swallow in oxygen and Donna is gasping like a fish out of water. But she can’t stop now. She can’t.

She needs to find Laura. 

Even with her wavering strength, her hands still clap at the elbows that bump against her and she uses that to dash past them as best she can. A sea of people, all in some sort of circle, and she can see it – they are becoming less and less the deeper in she gets, and Donna lets out a strained cry of joy when she realizes how close she is to having everything  _stop._

One last person remains and Donna grabs their shoulder and propels herself forward, stumbling into the middle of the circle and she lifts her head up to see who it is that everyone is crowding... and finds herself standing straight and rigid as Laura dances in front of her, all alone and wild – her hair a mess as her head whips around, arms up in the air and body gyrating against air.

Even in the flashing colours and terrible lighting, Donna recognizes her; by her electric energy, by the form of her body that she has dreamed of against hers, by the way she seems to repulse her and drag her in all the same. A fog gathers in her head, the throbbing, thudding getting heavier and heavier. Her tongue rolls out like dirty carpet as she calls out to Laura once more, only to have nothing more than a gargled, dying animal’s cry slip out.

Laura’s head whips to the side, her sweet, toothy smile on her face – coy and unwelcoming, her eyes glazed over and all colour gone, with lights flashing across her and then embracing her in shadows only to release her once more. Her hips sway and spin, clothes short – so very, despicably short – and tight, showing off the body that Laura  _knows_ people want. A sick feeling hits Donna then; a need to press against her until she melts into her and becomes the sweat on her flushed body.

Anything to get rid of the need that grows inside of her. Her chapped lips press tight against each other, the skin of her lower lip peeling when they part and she tries to speak again, “Laura!” she shrieks out, her voice barely enough to pierce through the inanely loud decibels of the club song, and Laura doesn’t spare one look at her and simply continues on with her dancing. No one approaches them, though their eyes all direct onto Donna as she tries to get closer and closer to the dancing beauty in the middle of them all.

Red blankets them, flashing too quickly and often with white and Donna sees spots gathering at the corners of her vision. The migraine spreads all around, pumping in time with the beat, and she has to blink rapidly to try and will away the tears that gloss over her sight. “Please! Laura! We have to go home, right now!” she screams, “I’m worried for you! James is worried for you! You can’t just keep doing this to yourself, to  _us!_ ”  _to_ _**me.** _

There is no response. The stares on Donna seem to intensify, and everyone blurs together in her teary gaze. “Please, we can go to the doc together! We’ll get help! I’ll help you! I’ll do anything to help you!” Donna continues screaming, begging, for the other to just listen. “Laura! Don’t ignore me! I’m here – it’s me! It’s me!  _ DONNA! _ ”

Nothing. “Why won’t you look at me? What did I DO?”  Donna pleas and she gets closer and closer to Laura, but can’t bring herself to actually grab her and stop her in her tracks. “We can go back right now! No more dizziness, dancing, whatever – whatever else you do! Drugs? Fucking? I can help. I swear I can help.”

Laura spins in front of her, arms spreading out and laughter bubbles out of her. Black-painted lips spread wide in her joy, her hair a sandy waterfall as she bends her head back. “Laura,” Donna tries again, desperation breaking into her already hoarse, useless voice, “everyone is so worried.” and it’s true. She disappears so often, even Bobby is asking. He never asks – because he isn’t...

“Everyone loves you.”

_**I love you.** _

“You have to stop doing whatever this is, Laura.”

_**Come back to me?** _

“You can’t do this to us!”

Even in a joy that Donna can’t discern as real or imagined, Laura looks so gorgeous in front of her. Carefree as she can be, eyes staring through the ceiling and body swinging around, arms once again above her – reaching out to the crimson lights that flicker on and off on them both. Everyone is mixing in to form ugly, wet blurs thanks to her crying.

“Everyone... everyone loves you.” she whispers and Laura’s dancing slows. “I love you.” Her movements are like molasses, a snail barely dragging its slime across the floor. “I wish... I wish I could be just like you.” she collapses on her knees on the cold floor, fingers splaying out, and she sobs and lets the fat, salty drops of tears land on the ground before her.

One arm comes to wipe her eyes clean and when her vision is back, there is a pair of feet in front of her and Donna raises her head up slowly to witness Laura staring down at her, smile gone. “You want to be like me?” she asks, hollow, and she sinks down before Donna; her hands cup her cheeks, nails pressing into her skin unpleasantly, and she gasps out. “You know... I love... you... just the... way... you... are.” Laura says slowly, words dragging through mud and cement and Donna hiccups.

Her forehead presses against Donna’s. Her migraine is the only throbbing she can hear now, and a circle of scarlet bathes them. “You shouldn’t be here, Donna.” Laura tells her shyly, index fingers slowly caressing back and forth on her face. “You really shouldn’t. This isn’t for you, this is for people like _me._ And you aren’t like me, right?”

She closes her eyes and Laura jolts her harshly, sinks her nails into her harder until Donna looks back at her. “Look at _**ME!**_ ” Laura shrieks out, and no one rushes to check up on them even when her voice _echoes_ and bounces off the walls. Donna gasps in pain, her hands shakily grabbing at Laura’s wrists and merely holds them, her entire body now being covered in pathetic tremors. “Get out of here, okay? Then I’ll forget you ever came here.

“Doesn’t that sound good, Donna? You can pretend you never saw me here. This isn’t a place for someone like you. You shouldn’t ever be here.

“Did... you know... I... love... you just... the way... you... are?”

Her hands slip away from Laura’s bony wrists to instead cover her ears.

“Go back to James, okay? And never become me. Never, ever become me. I love you... just the... way... you... _**are.**_ ”

  


  


When day comes, Laura and her go to school. Her teeth are slightly yellowed and she has black nailpolish on, and everyone thinks she’s so chic. Bobby whisks her away and James is left, quietly fuming, with Donna to try and distract him.

Donna steals Laura’s jacket that afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/starrelia) | [My Tumblr.](https://masculinedevil.tumblr.com)


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